True Colors
by Fairyvixenmaiden
Summary: The Lis ran Sakura out of town as a penniless, scared and pregnant brokenhearted teen. Now as an older and stronger woman, she enters back into their lives with plans of revenge. What she didn't plan was her heart yearning for Syaoran still.
1. Chapter 1

Late morning was cool with a bit of wind, usual weather for in Japan as autumn took place. Lovely fall leaves in gold, cranberry red, pumpkin orange and warm brown. Even the rain that poured down seemed to be lovely due to the light overcast sky that filtered the sun. Yet in a luxurious and warm house, underneath a sturdy roof, the image was not enough to ease to the tension of a young woman that looked on through the window.

Sakura stood by the window watching the rain beat down on Tokyo, while her companion watched her with a pair of worried eyes. Her face shown the strain of business and she had lost weight on her curvaceous figure again. At twenty-four, she should have had nights out like her old friends, dating men spontaneously; a carefree outlook on life. Instead she had a burden of pressure twice the size most women ever dreamt of carry and achieving.

Kobayashi Kinomoto Sakura was vice president of Kobayashi International's huge domestic enterprises, much more than a shadowy figurehead who avoided publicity like the plague. She had a shrewd mind and a natural aptitude for high finance which her late husband had carefully, relentlessly and devotedly nurtured during their marriage. When he died, she had stepped into his shoes with such capability that the board directors reversed their decision to ask her to step down. Now, two and a half years into her term of office, company profits were up and her plans for expansion into new minerals and gas reserves and strategic metals were well under way.

That explained the set of Sakura's thin shoulders. A company based in Hong Kong, China was fighting them tooth and nail over mineral rights they currently owned. But the Li Corporation wasn't just a mere formidable rival or China's powerful and wealthiest family in competition. It was headed by the one man Sakura had reason to hate; a shadow out of her past whose specter had haunted her through all the empty years since she'd left Hong Kong.

Only Kobayashi Hotaka knew the whole truth. He and his late brother, Takao, had been very close. Sakura had come to Takao a shy, frightened teenager. At first Takao, to whom business was a primary concern, had fought against the marriage. He relented, but he'd been faintly cool since Takao's death.

Hotaka was now president of Kobayashi International, but also something of a rival. Sakura had often wondered if he resented position in the company. He knew his own limitations, and her brilliance and competence had impressed harder heads than his. But he watched her carefully, especially when she drew on her nervous energy to take on too many projects. And this fight with Li Corporation was already taking its toll on her. She was still getting over the aftereffects of a rough bout with pneumonia that had come on the heels of a kidnapping attempt on her five-year-old son, Hikaru. If it hadn't been for the inscrutable Mr. Trung, her bodyguard, God only knew what might have happened.

Sakura was brooding over her forthcoming trip to China. She felt she had to make a brief visit to Hong Kong, home and base of Li Corporation and Sakura's home of eight years. The sudden death of her eighty-year-old great aunt who had lived there had left Sakura with the house and a few belongings of Aunt Soyaki's to dispose of. Sakura was really her only surviving relative, except for a few distant cousins who still lived out West.

"You arranged the funeral over the phone-couldn't you do that with the property, too? Hotaka asked softly.

Sakura hesitated, and then shook her head. "No, I can't. I've got to go back and face it. Face them," she amended. "Besides, it would be a God-given opportunity to scout out the opposition, wouldn't it? They don't I'm Kobayashi Takao's widow. I was Takao's best-kept secret. I've avoided cameras and worn wigs and dark glasses ever since I took over."

"That was to protect Hikaru," he reminded her. "You're worth millions, and this last kidnapping attempt almost succeeded. A low public profile is invaluable. If you aren't recognized, you and Hikaru are safer."

"Yes, but Takao didn't do it for that reason. He did it to keep Li Syaoran from finding out who I was, and where I was, in case he ever came looking for me." She closed her eyes, trying to blot out the memory of the fear she'd felt after her flight from China. Pregnant, accused of both sleeping with another man and being his accomplice in a theft, she'd been driven from the house by Syaoran's mother's harsh voice while Syaoran looked on in cold agreement. Sakura didn't know if the charges had ever been dropped, but Syaoran had believed she was guilty. That was the most painful memory.

She'd been carrying Syaoran's son, and she'd loved him so desperately. But Syaoran had used her. He's proposed to her, but she'd learned later that it had only been to keep her happy in their relationship. _Love you?_ He'd drawled in his deep voice. Sex was pleasant, but what would he want with a gangly, shy teenager in any other respect? He'd said that in front of his vicious mother, and something in Sakura had died of shame.

She remembered running, blinded by tears, her only thought to get away. Great Aunt Soyaki had brought her a bus ticket, and she'd left town. Left under a shadow, in disgrace, with the memory of Li Yelan's mocking smile following her . . .

"Why not give up the takeover bid?" Hotaka suggested hesitantly. "There are other companies with mineral holdings."

"Not in southeastern China," she replied, her soft emerald eyes fixing on him calmly. "And Li Corporation has leases we can't break. They've made it impossible for us to get any mineral leases in the area." She turned and smiled, her soft oval face and creamy complexion framed by an elegant sweep of honey brown hair. She had the look of royalty, and the graceful carriage. That confidence was a legacy from Kobayashi Takao who'd given her far more than control of his business empire by the time he died. He'd hired tutors for her, to teach her etiquette and the art of hostessing, to educate her in business and finance. She'd been an eager and willing pupil, and she had a mind like a sponge.

"He'll fight hard," the thin grey haired man said stubbornly.

She smiled, because Hotaka looked so much like Takao when he set his lips that way. He was ten years Takao's junior and ten years Sakura's senior. He was a very good businessman, even if he wasn't her best friend in the world. But Hotaka was conservative while Sakura was aggressive. More than once they'd locked horns over company policy. The domestic operation was her domain, her baby and Hotaka wasn't going to tell her how to run it. Her steady level gaze told him all of that.

"Let him fight, Hotaka," she replied. "It will give him something to do while I'm taking over his company."

"You need rest," he said with a sigh. "You have been ill and Hiraku is a big handful."

"The flu is inevitable with a child in kindergarten," she reminded him. "I didn't expect it to go into pneumonia. Besides, with my expansion plans, the takeover bid is very essential. I have to give it priority, regardless of how much time or energy it takes. I can ferret out a lot of information while I'm deciding what to do with Great-Aunt Soyaki's house."

"There shouldn't be a problem. She left a will. Even if she hadn't, Takao took care of it by paying for it."

"No one in Hong Kong knows that," she said. She turned from the window, arms folded over her high, firm breasts as she nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully. "I wrote to her, and she came here to see several times. But I haven't been back there since-" She caught herself. "Not since I was eighteen," she amended.

But he knew. "It's been six years. Almost seven," he added gently. "Time is a great healer."

Her eyes darkened. "It is? Do you think six years or sixty would be enough to forget what the Lis did to me?" She turned toward him. "Revenge is unworthy of an intelligent person. Takao drilled that into me, but I can't help what I feel. They accused me of a crime I never committed, sent me out of Hong Kong in disgrace and pregnant." She closed her eyes as shivers went through her body. "I almost lost the baby. If it hadn't been for Takao . . ."

"He was crazy about Hiraku, and about you." Hotaka grinned. "I've never seen a man so happy. It was a shame about the accident. Three years out of a lifetime isn't long for a man to find and loses everything he values."

"Takao was so good to me," she agreed, smiling at the bittersweet memory that crossed her mind. "I know that everyone thought that I married him because he was wealthy. He was almost twenty years older than me. But the truth was that he didn't tell me how rich he was until he convinced me to marry him." She chuckled slightly. "I nearly bolted out of the door when he told me how much he was worth." She gestured around the elegant room with priceless antiques and expensive furniture. "All of this scared me."

"I always wondered why he didn't tell you until after the wedding," Hotaka mused. His whole life was spent making money and living for the corporation. He didn't know that he even wanted a family until you came along."

"He got a ready-made one. I wanted so much to give him a child . . ." She sighed and turned away. Thinking about it wouldn't do her any good. "I have to go to Hong Kong and I will go." She walked over and sat on the chaise near Hotaka. "Do you mind checking on Hiraku and Mr. Trung every day or two? I am a little nervous about the both of them, after that kidnapping attempt."

"Perhaps it's best to take Mr. Trung with you." He suggested. "You didn't live in a very good neighborhood after all."

"Mr. Trung is worth is weight in gold, and he'll take very good care of Hiraku. You don't have to check often if he disturbs you. And besides," she added after a glance at his unconvinced expression. "Hiraku loves him."

"Hiraku isn't old enough to realize how dangerous he is. Sakura, I know that he is worth his weight in gold, but you do know that he's also a wanted man . . . ?"

"_Was_ a wanted man from Vietnam during the war. He was released of those charges. That was then and _now_ he is a former law enforcement officer; one of the best."

"All right, fine. I'll try to keep watch but he better keep that animal of his away from me."

"Tiny lives in an aquarium," she said defensively. "And she's a very tame animal."

"She is an overgrown iguana," he muttered.

"Iguanas are vegetarians and she is not that big. Yet. And may I ask why you never put up a fuss about Lulu?"

"Lulu may be a monkey but at least she doesn't eat dogs like a certain old five foot iguana once did."

"Dano didn't eat dogs, Hotaka. You dog ran away."

"Can't he just put the thing up when I am over? I don't mind the monkey . . . much."

"Don't worry, I'll ask him. It's only for a few weeks, until I see to Great-Aunt Soyaki's property and organize a way to get those mineral leases away from the Lis. I'll have to do some scouting first," she added. "I want to see how the Lis are placed these days." Her lovely face darkened. "I want to see how _he's_ placed."

"Be careful, he probably knows who you are by now."

"Fat chance, he does. I made a point of finding out. Takao was very protective of me, especially at first, so he never told anyone about me. Karumera was his nickname for me and he always referred that name to me. So there's very little chance that Syaoran Li would make a connection between me and Kobayashi International. He only knew me as Kinomoto Sakura. If I leave without flashing diamonds or any other expensive items, he won't know who I am. And more importantly," she added coldly, "his mother won't know."

"I've never thought of Syaoran Li as a mama's boy," he stated, with an amused chuckle.

"He isn't. But Mama is a prime mover, a secretive manipulator. I was eighteen and no match for her cunning mind. She got ten rid of me so easily, but now it's my turn to manipulate. I want Li Corporation and I'm going to get it."

Hotaka looked at his sister-in-law, thinking about the mess she was going to create for herself. He thought about warning her but didn't knowing that it'll fall on deaf ears.

Yes, she'd known Syaoran as a man, as a lover even. But she had no idea about the business head that sat on those broad shoulders, and if she went on to pursue the takeover bid, she was going to find herself in over her own head. Many others had tried to take on Li, to their cost. He was an accomplished and formidable for, among the most ruthless of businessmen.

He and Takao had butted heads several times. Li probably didn't have a clue why Kobayashi hated him so, or deliberately tried to foil deals for him. It had been a great big shock when Takao was invited to sit on the Li Corporation board of directors. Li had engineered that move so that he could keep an eye on Kobayashi's business deals, but Takao worked it to his advantage as well. Hotaka, naturally, attended the meetings, and Sakura's name was never mentioned once.

"Just be careful that your surprise doesn't backfire," he cautioned. "Don't underestimate him. Takao never did."

"Oh, I won't." She stretched lazily. "What's on the agenda for this afternoon? I have some shopping to do." She gestured to her designer suit. "Little Sakura could never have afforded anything like this. I don't want anyone to think that I have prospered."

" 'O what a tangled wed we weave, when we first practice to deceive,'" Hotaka quoted dryly.

"'And hell has no fury that of a woman scorned,'" Sakura shot back. "Don't worry, Hotaka. I am fully aware of what I'm getting into and how to handle it."

He shrugged. "I hope so."


	2. Chapter 2

As she packed her new clothes that evening in Mr. Trung's borrowed second-hand suitcase, Hikaru sprawled on her queen-sized bed in their uptown Japanese home, frowning.

"Why do you have to go away?" he muttered, his little face dark and sullen. "You're always going away. You're never here."

She felt a twinge of guilt. Her son was right. But she couldn't afford to give in to that stubborn determination of his. Hikaru was as formidable in his young way as she was.

"Business, my darling," she replied, smiling. She stared at him lovingly. He looked nothing like her. He was his father, from his messy brown hair to his deep amber eyes. He was going to be tall like Syaoran, too, she guessed.

Syaoran. Sakura signed heavily and turned away. She'd loved him so much, with all the passion of her young life. He'd taken her chastity and her heart, and in return he'd given her grief and shame. His mother had done her part to break up what might have been an honest love affair.

God knew, he'd always felt guilty about her. Probably he'd have felt even more guilt if he'd known that she was only eighteen to his twenty-six. She'd lied and told him she was twenty. He'd said even then that it was like robbing the cradle. But his passion for her had been a helpless, deeply resented one that had cost him his stoic self-control time and time again. She often thought that he'd hated her for that, for making him vulnerable.

His mother had hated her, certainly. The fact that Sakura had been living with her great-aunt and uncle on the seedy section of Hong Kong who were of Mongolian descent – had been a scandalous shock to Mrs. Li Yelan. Yelan belonged to the social set and made no secret of her snobbery. That her son had dared to embarrass her by dating the niece of one of his employees had haunted her, especially when she'd already hand-picked a wife for him – Wang Mei-ling, a local debutante whose people had high standing in Beijing and Shanghai as well as property there and could trace their roots back to the Song Dynasty and also a distant cousin to Syaoran. Yelan had never even bothered to ask Sakura about her and her family. She had taken it for granted when Sakura was only related to Uncle Chao by marriage.

Hiraku would someday have to be told the truth of his parentage, Sakura thought to herself. For now, he accepted that the tall, fair man who used to laugh and bring him things was real father. In most senses, he was. Takao had spoiled Sakura shamefully, attended Lamaze classes with her, treated her like a fragile treasure and treated her like he was responsible for the pregnancy and showered her with luxuries when Hikaru came into the world. He stayed with her during the whole thing and cried when he held Hikaru in his arms. In almost every way, Takao was Hikaru's father. He'd earned the right.

But she never told Takao about the dreams she had filled with Syaoran, about the fierce pleasure he'd taught to share with hi, or compared to Syaoran. It wouldn't have been fair. Takao was a gentle, skillful lover, but she'd never attained the heights with him that Syaoran took her to so effortlessly.

"Isn't Barry the Alligator great? Hikaru asked, cuddling his plush alligator. "Mr. Trung let me pet Tiny and play with Lulu. He says you should get me an iguana too or a capuchin monkey. They make very nice pets."

She laughed gently at Hikaru's adult-sounding speech. He was almost six, and he already had a tremendous grasp of both Japanese and Chinese language as well as Vietnamese; courtesy of Mr. Trung. He would be ready to start first grade next year. This year he attended private kindergarten until one each afternoon and he was an avid and fast learner.

Sakura knew that Syaoran never married. She allowed herself to wonder for one long instant what Li Yelan would think of her grandson. It was unlikely that the elderly woman would covet him, of course, since he was Sakura's. And a grandchild would tarnish the youthful image she tried so hard to project.

"Can't I have an iguana?" Hiraku asked.

"You can pet Dano, when Mr. Trung lets you."

"How about a monkey like Lulu?" he persisted.

"Lulu is a possessive little thing. She wouldn't like a monkey coming on her territory. Ask Mr. Trung yourself."

"Doesn't Mr. Trung have a first name?" he asked, frowning.

She laughed. "Nobody has the nerve to ask," she whispered.

He laughed, too, his young voice delightfully carefree. Had she ever been that happy, she wondered, even as a child? Her mother died when she was four, leaving her with her father and older brother. Her father was archeologist and anthropologist and she was his princess. Her brother was very protective of her, died on the job when his dig site went wrong. A little more than a year later, Touya was killed arresting a gang member. Thank God there was Aunt Soyaki and Uncle Eiji to look after her. They'd loved her, even if nobody else ever had.

Hiraku sighed. "I wish I could come with you."

"One day soon," she promised. "Then I'll take you to your Mongolian cousins up north.

"Really?!"

"Hiraku!"

The thunderous voice echoed through the upstairs floor.

"In here, Mr. Trung!"

Heavy footsteps were heard echoing down the hall and a tall hair cropped hulk of a man walked into the room. Mr. Trung had a Marine Corp tattoo on one brawny arm, and he wore khaki slacks with an olive drab T-shirt. He was the ugliest, and the kindest, man Sakura had ever known. He had to be in his middle or late forties, but no one knew for sure. He had a spotless and impressive service record and had come from a successful career in the Vietnamese Marine Force with some co-work from the CIA of US to work for Kobayashi Takao.

After Takao's death, Sakura inherited him as her bodyguard. Everything from his big nose to his green eyes that were resembled a deep forest green, he was a treasure. He aborted the kidnapping attempt on Hiraku. And no one with a shred of common sense bothered Sakura when he was with her. Every year she raises his salary, even though he never asks. Next to Hiraku, Mr. Trung was the most cherished person in her private life.

"It's bedtime for you, mister," Mr. Trung told Hikaru without cracking a smile. "Front and center."

"Yes, sir!" Hiraku saluted, laughing, and ran to the big man, to be swung up on his shoulders.

"I'll settle him for night, Karumera," he told Sakura. His eyes narrowed. "You need another week in bed."

"Don't fuss at me," she said gently, and smiled at him. "I'm all right. I have to do something with Aunt Soyaki's things you know. And it's a dandy opportunity to reconnoiter the opposition."

"Recon what?" Hiraku asked.

"Never mind," she told him. She learned forward and kissed his rosy cheek. "Sleep tight, baby. I'll be along to tuck you in."

"Mr. Trung is going to tell me all about Vietnam!" Hiraku told her with excitement.

Sakura grimaced. Vietnam War stories hardly seemed the proper bedtime tales for a young boy. She didn't have the heart to let him go to bed with those stories in his head . . .

"I want to hear about the snake again."

She frowned at Hiraku. "The what?"

"The snake. M. Trung is teaching me about all the animals and stuff in Vietnam," he explained.

She flushed. She'd thought the stories were entirely about something else.

Mr. Trung saw the flush and almost smiled. "Fooled you, huh?" he asked smugly. "That's what you get for misjudging innocent people."

"You are not innocent people," she pointed out.

"I'm innocent of a few things," he argued. "I never shot anybody twice."

She looked up at the ceiling. "My bodyguard, the saint."

"Keep that up and I'll go back to the government," he promised. "They treat a guy right."

"I'll bet they never bought you kidskin moccasins and your very own Jacuzzi," she said haughtily.

"Well, no."

"And they don't give you three weeks' paid vacation and offer you free hotel rooms and carte blanche at restaurants," she continued.

"Well . . ."

"And they don't hug like I do," Hiraku exclaimed, throwing his arms around Mr. Smith's think neck as hard as he could.

Mr. Trung chuckled, returning the hug. "Got me there," he admitted. "Nobody in the government ever hugged me."

"See?" Sakura asked smugly. "You're well off and don't know it."

"Oh, I know it," he said. "I just like watching you squirm."

"One of these days," she began, pointing a finger at him.

"That's our cur to leave, Hiraku," Mr. Trung said turning with the boy in his arms to head for the door. "She's good for an hour on that subject."

Sakura hid a smile and went back to her packing.

Two days later she arrived in Hong Kong on the bus. She could have flown all the way to Hong Kong, but that was an indication that she had money. A bus ticket was considerably cheaper so she purchase a bus ticket from a station after landing Shanghai. Besides, the bus station was located a few doors down from the office of Li Corporations.

She waited for her suitcase; her hair was loose and falling down her back, wearing a pair of jeans and a faded denim jacket over a T-shirt. She wore a pair of scuffed boots she'd used for riding back home, and she'd left off her makeup. She looked very much as she had the day she'd taken the bus out of Hong Kong six years ago. Except she had a different secret now, one she was going to enjoy keeping until the proper time.

In an office building just a little down the street, high up, a man sitting at a desk happened to notice the movement from the unloading of passengers disembarking. He got out of his swivel chair and moved to the one-way window, staring down with dark eyes that seemed to burst with mingled emotions.

"Mr. Li?"

"What is it, Mai?" he asked without turning.

"Your letter . . . ."

He had to force himself to turn away from the window. Surely not, he thought. That couldn't be her, not after all these years. He'd seen her in crowds before, only to get closer and find another face, the wrong face. But he felt as if it were Sakura. His heart began to beat with the fierce rhythm she'd taught it. He felt alive for the first time in six years.

He sat down; his tall, fit body in a dark blue suit so striking that even his senior secretary of many years stared at him. He was thirty-two now, but sometimes his lean, slightly tanned face seemed older than its years. There were lines around his eyes, too.

"Forget the letter," he said abruptly. "Find the address of Soyaki. Her husband was a Mongol – Eiji

"Yes, sir." Mai left to find the address for him.

Syaoran continued to sit, turning to read some new contracts and an inquiry from one of his directors about a few mining leases he'd refused to cede from Kobayashi International. He looked at the papers without seeing them as memories flooded back, memories six years old of a woman who'd betrayed him and left town under a cloud of suspicion.

"Sir, there's an obituary here," Mai said as she returned thumbing through the local paper. "I saw it last week and meant to mention it. Well, I remembered, you know, about that Kinomoto girl who was involved in the theft six years ago."

Syaoran bristled. "Her part in it was never proved," he corrected sternly.

Her eyes arched as she moved a step back. "Yes, here it is. Mrs. Soyaki, and here's the address – they print it, you know. She was buried two days ago. No family listed at all. I suppose they didn't know about Miss Kinomoto at the newspaper . . . ."

"Give me that." He took the paper and pored over it. Soyaki was dead. He remembered her from their old neighborhood where she and Eiji had lived until the old gentleman's death two years ago. Soyaki had moved closer into town. God only knew how she managed to afford a house on her Social Security. Syaoran hadn't seen the house but knew about it because he'd seen her one day when he was out. He'd questioned her harshly about Sakura, but she wouldn't tell him anything.

She was frankly evasive and even a little frightened. He grimaced, remembering his desperation to find Sakura. The old lady had practically run to get away from him. He hadn't followed her, but he'd been tempted to follow her. Then he realized that it would accomplish nothing. He'd only upset her more. Besides, the past was dead. Sakura was probably married by now, with a house full of kids.

The thought hurt him and angered him even. He sighed irately. Well, she'd be coming back, surely. In fact, that could have been Sakura he'd just seen. Someone would have to tie up all the loose ends that Soyaki's death created. He knew that Sakura was Soyaki's closest living relative.

He sat back in his chair, scowling. Sakura was here. He knew she was. He didn't know whether he was sorry or glad about it. He only knew that his life was about to be disrupted once again.


	3. Chapter 3

It was too much to hope that Syaoran would walk out of his office building and run headlong into her, Sakura decided as she watched the city bus head towards the Hong Kong Station. He might not even be in town. Like Takao, and now herself, business demanded frequent trips to business meetings and conferences. And for her to run into object of her youthful desire today would require a ferocious kind of coincidence or a helping hand of fate.

She boarded the bus and got off several minutes later near the corner of her street. Her aunt's little house sat on a dead-end street sheltered by towering parasol trees. This house, thankfully, held no memories for her. When Sakura lived here, Great-Aunt Soyaki's home was a small matchbox on the outskirts of the city. When she dated Syaoran, they always wound up in the penthouse he kept at the Sheraton, one of the many buildings that made up the Hong Kong skyline. She ground her teeth, remembering. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come back here after all. With the city of her youth around her, memories hurt more.

She unlocked the door with the key Mr. Hamoro, the Realtor, had sent her. She loved in November and December here in southeastern Hong Kong; there were always pleasant breezes, lots of sunshine and the temperatures were very comfortable. But the months afterwards were extremely cold and snows weren't far off either so she hoped she will be long gone before they arrived.

The house was quite chilly, but fortunately Hamoro had remembered to have the utilities put on for her in the chilly evenings. There was a gas stove with the pilot light already burning, and electricity worked. He'd even been kind enough to leave her a few groceries.

Her eyes lingered on the old but functional furniture. Everything was done in traditional Mongolian with a touch of Japanese culture here and there, because that was what Great-Aunt Soyaki liked. But she had kept many of her late husband's treasures. The medicine shield and bad that he always displayed so proudly were on the one wall. His pipe, with its exquisite decoration, rested on another peg, as did the bow and arrows his own grandfather made for him in his youth. There was several parfleche bags filled with secret things in a coffee table drawer. There was a huge mandala on another wall, and assorted dried skins and woven hangings on the others. Dead potted plants covered almost every available surface. Great-Aunt Soyaki's plants were her greatest treasures, but they'd gone without water since her death and now were beyond saving . . . except for one chrysanthemum, which Sakura took to the kitchen and watered, then placed gently on the Formica counter.

When she noticed the telephone on the wall, Sakura felt stab of relief. She was going to need it. She was also going to need it. She was also going to need her fax machine and her computer with its internal modem. Smith could bring all that equipment out, and she could make use of Aunt Soyaki's library as an office. It had a door that locked, to protect her secret from prying eyes in case any of the Lis ever made it this far.

Sakura was a little concerned over the amount of time this project was going to take, but the mineral leases were her top priority right now. The domestic operation simply couldn't move ahead with its expansion program without them. She was committed, however long it took. She'd have to keep up with business through Hotaka and the telephone and hope for the best.

Worst of all was the time spent away from Hikaru. He was becoming hyperactive in school. Her lifestyle was apparently affecting him more than she'd realized. And business had edged its way between them until she couldn't even sit down to a meal with her son without being interrupted by the telephone. He was on edge, and so was she. She planned to use this time to catch up on work so that she could have more time with him when she gets back.

She made herself a pot of tea, smiling at the neatness of the little kitchen, with its yellow walls and white curtains and oak furniture. Aunt Soyaki didn't want Sakura and Takao to buy her this house and furnish it, but they'd finally convinced her that it was something they wanted to do. Despite the fact that she had friends and cousins near her old home, they wanted her near to her best friend, Miss Mao, who'd offered to look after her. Miss Mao had died only a few weeks before Soyaki. Perhaps they were together now, exchanging crochet patterns and gossiping on some ghostly front porch. Sakura liked to think of that way.

Her fingers were cold, and she almost spilled her tea as she poured it. Aunt Soyaki's cup were everywhere in the living room, intricate patterns of colored thread that she'd crocheted so beautifully. It was a shame to use them, and Sakura knew that she wasn't going to let them be sold with the house when the time came. She'd have to choose some personal items to keep, especially the doilies and quilts, and of course Uncle Eiji's legacy for little Hikaru.

As Sakura's gazed lingered on the beautifully decorated parfleche bags she removed from the drawer, she remembered sitting on Uncle Eiji's knee while he regaled her with stories about the Mongols and their time a long time ago and how they would enjoy their horse-taking forays in Western China where Mongolians still resided and vice versa. So much of the information given about Mongols was inaccurate. The thing she remembered most from her uncle was his teachings about courtesy and generosity which the Mongolians practiced. The Mongolians are unconstrained and warm-hearted people as they treat others warmly and politely. They greet everyone they meet during their travels even they do not know each other. Nobody went hungry or cold in their camps. Brotherly love was practiced and virtually known to them. Courage was the trait that was utmost respected.

Courage . . . Sakura sipped her tea. She was going to need plenty of that. Li Yelan's face flashed before her eyes, and she shivered. She had to remember that she was no longer eighteen and poor. She was twenty-four, almost twenty-five, and rich. Much richer than the Lis. It was important to keep in mind that she was equal to them socially and financially.

Her eyes settled on Uncle Eiji's medicine pouch. It contained, among other things, kinikinnick – willow shavings used as tobacco and sage, tiny rock from the mountains, a black-crested lizard hawk feather and a golden lion tamarind tooth. She'd opened it once secretively and looked in. Later she'd asked her uncle about the contents, but all he was willing to say was that it was his own personal "medicine," to keep away evil and protect him from enemies and ill health. How ironic that her people seemed to think that money and power were the answers to the riddle of what made life bearable. But Uncle Eiji had never cared about having things or making money. And, content to work as a security guard for Li Corporation, he was one of the happiest people Sakura had ever known.

She finished her tea and carried her suitcase into the neatly furnished second bedroom, the one Aunt Soyaki had used as a guest room. Sakura never used it – she'd been too afraid of seeing the Lis to ever come back to Hong Kong.

Her few belongings put away, Sakura took the bus to a small convenience store several blocks away and bought a sack of groceries. It had been years since she'd done anything this menial. She had maids and a housekeeper at her Tokyo house, and they took care of such things. She knew how to cook, but it wasn't a skill she practiced often. She smiled at her own shortcomings. Aunt Soyaki liked to chide her for her lack of homemaking abilities.

She decided to walk back to the next bus stop. Passing the enormous Hong Kong Park she sighed at its beauty. The beautiful trees of all types towered overhead to create a colorful canopy over the lawn. Here in the summer, there were symphony orchestra concerts and ice cream suppers. There was always something going on here.

Coming a long way from being a crown colony to England, Hong Kong was a huge city that starts from the New Territories which span northwards eventually connecting with mainland China across the Sham Chun River (Shenzhen River) to the Kowloon Peninsula. Its well-designed wide streets and plenty of elbow room, with railroad tracks through the city. Trade and international finance kept things running in Hong Kong and maintaining it as the wealthiest urban center in the People's Republic of China. Along the outskirts, refineries were everywhere. A little farther north and west of it vast ranches and fields of rice, wheat, sweet potatoes and citrus fruits.

Undeveloped land surrounds the city with mostly hilly to mountainous with steep slopes, used as country parks and nature reserves. Sakura loved the country and the wilderness outside of the city, loved the vastness of it, and loved the absence of the concrete and steel. Distances were terrifying to most city folk in China, but a hundred miles was nothing for western Chinese native.

Her bus came just came as she approached the bus stop to take her back to the house. Her arms tightened around the grocery sack as she reached the street on which Great-Aunt Soyaki's house stood. Odd, she thought, that sleek gray Jaguar hadn't been sitting on the curb when she left. Perhaps the Realtor had come looking for her.

Digging in her jeans for her house key, she didn't see the shadowy figure on the front porch until she reached the steps. Then she stopped dead. She felt her heart skip.


	4. Chapter 4

Li Syaoran was every bit as tall as Mr. Trung but the similarities ended there. Syaoran was dark and dangerous-looking. Powerful even in an expensive blue vested suit like one he was wearing now. He stepped into the sunlight. Despite the anguish from the past six years, Sakura felt a surge of warmth shoot through her body as she looked at him.

He was older. There were new lines in that handsome face and the most intense amber eyes. His brown hair a mess as usual with sheen to it. His fingers held

"I thought it was you," he said without introduction, his deep sharp as harsh as the unrelenting winter wind. "I can see the bus stop out my window."

So he had seen her after all. She gave herself a quick, mental pep talk. _I'm older, I'm richer, I have secrets, and he has no power over me._

Her lips tugged into a careless smile. "Hello, Syaoran," she said. "Fancy seeing you over here in the slums"

His jaw tautened. "Hong Kong doesn't have slums in this area. Why are you here?"

"I came back for your family silver," she returned with a pointed stare and sarcastic tone. "I must have missed it on my last trip."

He shifted uncomfortably, ramming one hand into his pocket. It drew the thin fabric of his slacks against the powerful muscles of his long legs, and Sakura had to fight not to look. His body unclothed, was a miraculous epitome of perfection; perfectly natural tanned skin, finely chiseled chest, his six-pack evident in his flat stomach and in between his legs . . .

"After you left," he said hesitantly, "Tan-saga confessed to my mother that you had nothing to do with the theft."

Tan-saga Jun, she recalled, was the "accomplice" she'd allegedly been in love and sleeping with. Only a jealous fool could have imagined Sakura going from Syaoran to Jun, but since Yelan had paid Jun to invent the story, the details she'd given him had been perfect. A classic frame. But regardless of that, Syaoran had believed her capable of infidelity and criminal acts. Love without trust was definitely not love. He's even admitted that his only interest in her had been only sexual. It was unfortunate that her mother had died before her teen years.

"I wondered why the police hadn't come after me," she said easily.

His powerful shoulders shifted underneath the fabric. "You couldn't be found," he said tersely.

That instant, Sakura was once again grateful for her husband. Takahiro took her to the Philippines during her pregnancy, with Mr. Trung as her protection. Nobody knew her real name, nobody had been told of her real name. She was known as Karumera after their marriage. She had feared that the Lis would track her down, to humiliate her if not to arrest her.

"How pleasant for me to hear that," she said with a slight cynicism, watching his intense eyes glitter as she transfer her bags of groceries to her other arms. "A jail sentence wouldn't have appealed with me."

His face grew more severe, his intense eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "You look skinnier than I remember . . ." he paused. "And older."

"Turning twenty-five next birthday." She said cheerily with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You are thirty-two now, right?"

Syaoran nodded in respond. His gaze moved down her body and back up. He felt as if he were dying inside all over again. Six long years and he could still remember the tears on her young face, and the sound of her voice hating him. He remembered, too, long exquisite lovings in his bed with her arms clinging, her soft body like quicksilver under the heated thrust of his, her voice breaking as she moaned her pleasure into his damp throat . . . .

"How long are you going to be here?" he asked tightly.

"Long enough to dispose of the house," she replied.

He lifted the cigarette to his mouth. "You won't keep it?" he asked, hating himself for being vulnerable enough to ask the question.

She shook her head. "No. I don't think I'll stay as much as I love it. Hong Kong has too many enemies in it for me to."

"I'm not your enemy," he replied.

She lifted her chin and stared at with pure bravado. "Aren't you, Syaoran? That isn't how I remembered it."

He turned away, his eyes glancing down the wide street.

"You were eighteen. Too young. I never asked, but I'd bet I had your chastity."

Sakura flushed. Syaoran watched the stain in her cheeks with faint amusement, the first he'd felt since he'd seen her off the bus.

"So I did," he murmured, tingling all over at having his suspicions confirmed.

"You were the first," she said coldly. She smiled. "But not the last. Or did you think you were going to be an impossible act to follow?"

His pride bristled, but he didn't react. He finished the cigarette and flipped it off the porch. "Where have you been for the past six years?"

"Around," she answered causally. "Look, this bag is getting heavy. Do you have anything to say or is this just a friendly visit to see how fast you can shoot me out of town?"

"I came to ask if you needed a job," he answered stiffly. "I know your aunt left nothing except bills. I own a restaurant here. There is an opening for a waitress.

_This is really too much._ Sakura thought. Syaoran was offering her a job waitressing, when she could easily afford to buy the place. Guilty _conscience?_ She wondered. Or renewed interest? Either way, it wouldn't hurt to accept it. She had a feeling she'd see a good bit of the Lis that way, and it fitted in nicely with her plans.

"Okay," she said. "Do I need to apply?"

"No. Just report for work at six sharp tomorrow morning," he said. "I seem to remember that you had a job in a café when we first met."

"Yes." Her green eyes met his brown ones, and for an instant they both shared the memory of that first meeting. She'd spilled coffee on him, and when she'd gone to mop up his jacket, electricity had danced between them. The attraction was instant and mutual . . . and devastating.

"So long ago," he said absently, his eyes dark with bitterness. "_Kami_, why did you run? I came to senses two days later, and I couldn't find you, damn you!"

Came to his senses? She didn't dare dwell on that. She glared at him. "Damn you, too, for listening to your mother instead of me. I hope the two of you have been very happy together."

His eyebrows arched. "What did my mother have to do with Tan-saga?"

He didn't know! She could hardly believe it, but his blank stare was genuine. He didn't know what his mother had done!

"How did you get him to confess?" she asked.

"I didn't. He told Mother that you were innocent. She told me."

Her heart trembled in her chest. "Did she tell you anything else?" she asked with affected carelessness.

He scowled. "No. What else was there to tell?"

That I was pregnant with your child, she thought darkly, that I was eighteen and nowhere to go. I couldn't risk staying with my family with a theft charge hanging over my head.

She lowered her eyes so that he wouldn't see the fury in them. Those first few weeks had been the purest hell of her life, despite the fact that they'd strengthened and matured her to a frightening degree. She'd had to take complete charge of her own life and fate, and from that time she'd never been afraid again.

"Was there anything else?" he persisted.

She lifted her face. "No. Nothing else."

But there was. He sensed it. Her eyes held a peculiar gleam, almost of hatred. He'd accused her unjustly and hurt her with his rejection, but her anger went deeper than that.

"The restaurant is the Bar H Steak House," he said. "It's off North Twenty-seventh past the Sheraton."

Sakura felt her body go hot at the mention of the hotel, and she quickly averted her eyes. "I'll find it. Thanks for the recommendation."

"Does that mean you might stay for a few weeks, at least?" he asked, frowning.

Her eyes fenced with his. "Why? I do hope you don't entertain any thoughts of taking over where we left off. Because frankly, Syaoran, I'm not in the habit of trying to superglue broken relationships back together."

He went very still. "Is there someone?"

"In my life, you mean?" she asked. "Yes."

His face showed nothing, but a shadow seemed to pass over his eyes. "I might have known."

She didn't reply. She simply stared at him and saw him glance at her left hand, and she thanked God that she'd remembered to take off her wedding band. But the engagement ring Takao had given her- a diamond-cut emerald with small diamonds- was still there. She remembered how Takao laughed at her choice, because the ring was so inexpensive. He was hoping to give her a three-carat diamond, and she'd insisted on this ring. How long ago it seemed.

"You're engaged?" he asked heavily.

"I was," she corrected. True enough, she was, before Takao married her a week after the engagement.

"Not now?"

She shook her head. "I have a friend who is very dear to me. But I don't want commitment anymore." She wished she could cross her fingers behind her. She'd told more lies and half-truths in two minutes than she had in two years.

His features were more rigid than usual. "Why isn't your friend here with you, then?"

"I needed the breathing space. I came alone to get Aunt Soyaki's possessions she left."

"Where were you living?"

She smiled. "Along the coast. Excuse me; I have to get these things in the refrigerator."

He stood aside, hesitating. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Presumably he at the restaurant where she was going to work. "I suppose so." She glanced at him. "Are you sure they won't mind giving me work without references?"

"I own the damned restaurant," he said shortly. "They can't afford to mind. The job's yours, if you want it."

"I want it," she said.

She unlocked the door and hesitated. Since he didn't know her circumstances, he was probably doing it out of pity and guilt, but she felt obliged to say something. "It's very generous of you to give me the job."

"Generous." He laughed bitterly. "My God, I've never given anything in my life unless it suited me or made me richer. I've got the world. And I've got nothing." He turned and walked to his car, leaving her staring after him with wide, sad eyes.

Sakura let herself into the house. It had shaken her to see him again after so many barren years. She dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter and sat down, her mind going back to their first meeting.

_She'd been seventeen then, a week shy of eighteenth birthday. But she'd always looked older than she was, and the uniform she wore as a waitress molded itself lovingly to every soft curve of her slender body._

_Syaoran had stared at her from the first, his eyes followed her as she waited on one table and then another. She'd been nervous of him instantly, because he radiated self-confidence and a kind of bridled arrogance. He had a way of narrowing one eye and lifting his chin that was like a declaration of war every time he studied someone. Actually, she found out later, it was because he had a slight problem focusing on distant objects and was too stubborn to go to an ophthalmologist. She wondered if any of the people he'd intimidated with that level glare ever knew what caused it._

_His table drew its regular waitress, and she'd seen him frown and ask the girl something. Seconds later, he'd moved to a table that was in Sakura's territory._

_The very idea that a man who looked like that should seen interested in her made her toes tingle. She'd approached him with a gentle smile, her face flushing with excitement when he looked up at her and smiled back._

"_You're new here," he'd said. His voice was deep and slow, with delicious sensuality in it._

"_Yes." She sounded as breathless as she felt. She could still remember how cold her hands suddenly become. "I just started this morning."_

"_I'm Syaoran Li," he said. "I have breakfast here most mornings."_

_She recognized the name instantly. Most people in Hong Kong would recognize the infamous Li. "I'm Sakura," she said huskily._

_He lifted an eyebrow, and the smile deepened. "Beautiful name, Sakura." Emphasizing her name, he watched as a blush came across Sakura's face._

"_Are you past the age of consent?"_

"_I'm . . . twenty," she said at once, lying through her teeth. If she'd told him her real age, she knew instinctively that he'd have dismissed her._

"_That'll do. Bring me some coffee, please. Then we'll discuss where we're going tonight."_

_She rushed back behind the counter to pour the coffee, running headlong into Tamiko, the older waitress who worked with her._

"_Careful, chick," Tamiko said under her breath when Syaoran wasn't looking. "You're flirting with disaster. Li Syaoran has a reputation with women as in business. Don't get in over your head."_

"_It's all right. He . . . he's just talking to me," Sakura stammered._

"_Not when you look that flustered, he isn't," Tamiko replied worriedly. "Your great-aunt must live in a world all her own. Honey, men don't automatically propose marriage to women they want – especially men like Li Syaoran. He's out of our league. He's rich, and his mother would savage any woman who tried to get him to the altar unless she had money and connections. He's upper crust. They marry among themselves."_

"_But we're just talking," Sakura protested, forcing a smile while all her dreams crashed to earth._

"_See that it stays just talk. He could hurt badly."_

_The sound of authority made her bristle, but she really couldn't afford to antagonize a co-worker, so she just smiled and finished getting Syaoran's coffee. _

"_Was she warning you off?" he asked when she put the cup and saucer in front of him on the red-and-white-checked tablecloth._

_She gasped. "How did you know?"_

"_I took Tamiko out once," he replied easily. "She got too possessive, so I broke it off. It was a long time ago. Don't let her get under your skin, okay?"_

_She smile, because now it all made sense. He was interested and Tamiko was just jealous. She beamed. "I won't," she promised._

Remembering her own naïveté that say, Sakura groaned. She rose from her chair she'd been sitting in and went to put the groceries away. How could anyone have been so stupid? She asked herself. At eighteen, with a sheltered upbringing, she'd known nothing. To a man as worldly as Syaoran, she must have been a pushover. If she had any idea how things were going to turn out, she'd never have . . .

Who was she kidding? She laughed bitterly. She'd have done exactly the same thing, because Syaoran fascinated her. He still did, after all the grief and pain. He was the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on her life, and she remembered those strong loving arms as if they'd happened yesterday.

Now she'd landed herself in his orbit again and taken a job that she had no business taking. She was living a lie. But as she remembered the reasons for coming, her blood began to boil. Syaoran had discarded her like garbage, she and the child she'd been carrying. He'd turned his back on her and left her to fend for herself with a theft charge hanging over her head.

She hadn't come back to rekindle an old love affair. She'd come back for revenge. Takao had taught her that everyone had a weakness that could be exploited in business. And some people were better at hiding their Achilles' heels than others. Syaoran was a past master. She'd have to be very careful if she was going to locate his. But in the end she'd get the upper hand, and he'd be out in the cold. She meant to cost him everything, to put him in the same horrible position he'd put her in so long ago. Her eyes narrowed as she considered the possibilities, and a cold smile touched her disciplined mouth.

Sakura was no longer a naïve eighteen-year-old deeply in love with a man she couldn't have. She held all the aces this time. And when she played her hand, it was going to be the sweetest pleasure since Syaoran's treacherous kisses.

**Spring is going to busy so I am making a commitment to update monthly. I uploaded this chapter because I was finished with it at the same moment as the last chapter. To those who are reviewing, thank you so much and for keeping up with story.**


	5. Chapter 5

Sakura had brought some old clothes with her, so that Syaoran would suspect her prosperity

Sakura had brought some old clothes with her, so that Syaoran would suspect her prosperity. Now as she dressed for her new job, she was glad. She stepped into a neat denim skirt that matched her white cotton long-sleeved blouse. She put on soft-soled white tennis shoes and discards her Chanel purse for a black vinyl one. Then she put her hair in a neat ponytail at the top back of her head and stepped out the house to catch a bus for work.

Hong Kong was gorgeous first thing in the morning when you are located near the Hong Kong Park. This spacious part of the city was a world away from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. She missed her son, Mr. Trung and even Hotaka, but the change had already revived her fighting spirit and made her feel less depressed. The incredible pressures she faced daily in her work had been getting to her lately.

Sakura stepped off the bus in front of the restaurant. It was a prosperous one, very large and attached to a hotel. She noticed through the window that all the waitresses wore spotless white uniforms. It had been a long time since she had felt nervous around people, but here, she was without the secure cocoon of her wealth to cushion or protect her, and she was ill at ease. She found the cashier and asked for the manager.

"Mrs. Dichouri is just through there," the woman said pleasantly. "Is she expecting you?"

"I think so."

Sakura knocked on the door and walked in, surprised to find the woman almost twenty years older than she was. Perhaps she'd been harboring the subconscious thought that Mrs. Dichouri might be on of Syaoran's old lovers, but she had to revise that opinion now.

"I'm . . . Kinomoto Sakura," she said hesitantly. The name sounded strange. She was so used to being called Kobayashi Karumera.

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Dichouri said, smiling as she stood up behind her huge polished wood desk. She was a tall woman, her red hair mingling with silver above a broad, happy face. "I'm Dichouri. I'm glad to meet you. Syaoran said you'd just lost your aunt and needed work. Luckily for us, we've got an opening. Have you any experience at waitressing?"

"Well, a little," Sakura replied. "I used to work at the Eagle's Nest a few years ago."

"I remember. I thought I recognized you." Her gray eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I'm sorry about your aunt. She was a sweet woman."

"I'll miss her," Sakura said softly. "She was the only real relative I had in the world left."

Mrs. Dichouri's perceptive gaze swept over Sakura, leaving no detail untouched. She nodded. "It's hard work, but the tips are good, and I'm not a slavedriver. You can start now. You'll get off at six, but you'll have to work some evenings. That's unavoidable in this business."

"I don't mind that," Sakura said easily. "I don't need my evenings free."

Mrs. Dichouri's eyebrows arched. "At your age? For heaven's sake, aren't you married?"

"No." Sakura didn't say it rudely, but there was something in her manner that made the other woman visibly uncomfortable.

"Off men, then?" Mrs. Dichouri smiled and didn't pursue it, going on to detail Sakura's duties and her salary, along with information about uniforms and territory.

Sakura was busy giving herself a lecture on keeping to the part she was playing. It wouldn't do to assume Kobayashi Karumera's persona every time someone pried too deeply. She forced a smile and listened with every indication of interest while at the back of her head she wondered how long it was going to be before Li Syaoran made his next appearance.

Late that afternoon, Syaoran walked into the gardens at the huge Li estate. His eyes lingered halfheartedly on the lawn. He remembered playing on that porch as a child, with his mother nearby, watching him. She had always been far too possessive and protective of her only son, a condition that, in later years, had caused friction between them. In fact, their relationship had fallen apart with the departure of Kinomoto Sakura. Syaoran had changed as well in visible and not so visible ways.

He hung his coat on the antique rack in the hallway and wandered absently into the elegant living room, gathering the usual impressions of pastel brocades and thick oriental carpets and the priceless Asian antiques his mother loved.

She was sitting on her wing chair, just getting off the phone. Her dark eyes lifted and she smiled at him a little too brightly. "You're home early, aren't you?" she asked.

"I finished early." He poured himself a stiff whiskey and sank into his own armchair. "I'll be out for dinner. The Matikus are hosting a business discussion on some new mineral leases."

"Business, business," she muttered. "There's more to life than making money. Syaoran, you really should marry. I've introduced you to two very nice young women, debutantes and if not them, Mei-Ling sure would love a little attention . . ."

"I won't marry," he said with a cold smile. He lifted his whiskey in a mock toast. "Not to Mei-Ling or anyone. I took the cure, in case you've forgotten."

His mother went pasty white and dropped her eyes to her thin, nervous hands, "That. . . was a long time ago."

"It was yesterday." He threw down the rest of the whiskey and got to refill his glass. Remembering was painful. "She's back in town, did you know?"

There was a funereal stillness in the room. "She?"

The word came out sounding as if his mother had choked on it. He turned. "Kinomoto Sakura. I gave her a job at the restaurant."

Li Yelan had lived with her terrible secret, and her guilt, for so long that she'd forgotten anyone else shared it. But Sakura did. Ironically, the very information she'd used to get Sakura out of the city could now be turned against her with even more devastating results. The ensuing scandal could ruin her by destroying the failing relationship with her son. She panicked.

"You mustn't!" she said frantically. "Syaoran, you mustn't get yourself involved with that woman again! You can't forget what she did to you!"

His face gave away nothing. "No, Mother, I haven't forgotten. And I'm not getting involved with her. Once was enough. Her great-aunt died."

She swallowed nervously. "I didn't know."

"I'm sure there are bills to pay, loose ends to tidy up. She came from somewhere. She'll probably go back there as soon as she's got it all together."

Yelan wasn't so sure. "She'll inherit the house."

He nodded, staring into his second whiskey. He swirled the liquid carelessly. "She'll have a roof over her head. I have no idea where she's been all these years, but I know she had nothing when she left town." His face hardened and he downed the whiskey like it was water.

"That's not true," Yelan said quickly. "She had money!"

Yelan had given her a wad of bills which Sakura had promptly returned. Sakura had always refused to believe, however, that the girl hadn't kept enough of it to get out of Hong Kong. It eased her conscience to think it.

Syaoran stared at his mother over the glass, curious about her expression about the fear in her normally calm voice. "Jun gave back the money that was supposedly stolen. Had you forgotten?"

Her face went paler. "I'm sure she had some money," she faltered, lowering her eyes with raging guilt. "She must have."

Syaoran's were thoughtful and bitter. "I was never comfortable with her part in it, he said. "Jun gave us the story as if he learned it by heart, and Sakura swore to me that he'd never touched her, that they'd never been lovers."

"A girl like that would have many lovers," Yelan said, flushing.

Syaoran's eyes went dark as he remembered the way it had been with Sakura, the fever that burned between them. He could still see her trembling because she wanted him so badly. Could she have been that way with any other man? She'd been as obsessed as he had, every bit involved. He'd been too insanely jealous and angry to listen at the time his mother had accused her. It took only a couple of days after she left town for him to begin doubting her part in the so-called theft. It really had been very convenient that Jun subsequently produced all the "stolen money," and that Yelan insisted the boy not be arrested. The whole matter blew over after Sakura left Hong Kong. But she hadn't looked guilty. She'd looked. . . defeated.

He hadn't questioned that. Perhaps he should have asked questions, but he'd deeply resented his helpless attraction to Sakura at the time. It had been almost a relief to have her out of his life, to close once and for all the door to his sexual excesses, to the headlong, wanton passion she had kindled in him. There had been a brief affair or two since then, but no woman had been able to make him lose control the Sakura had. He wasn't sure he was even capable of it now. He felt dead inside. That was how Sakura looked the last time he'd seen her, standing with her head bent in the hall of his home. She'd looked as if something inside of her had died, and her accusing eyes had burned ineradicably into his mind. He could see them even now.

He turned. "It's all past history. There's nothing left to build on, even if I was tempted. She was a fling. Nothing more."

Yelan relaxed a little. "I'm glad to hear it. Really, Syaoran, a waitress with a full-blood Mongolian for a great-uncle. Not our kind of people."

Under his heavy brows, his amber eyes glittered. "Isn't that a little snobbish for descendants of a British deserter who lived among Mongolians."

Yelan actually gasped. "We don't speak of that!"

He shrugged. "Why not? Everybody has a black sheep in the family tree."

"Don't be absurd. Sheep don't climb trees." She put down her address book. "I'll tell Jiayu that you won't be in for dinner."

She walked past him, her mind whirling with fear and new complications. She didn't know what she was going to do. She couldn't have Kinomoto Sakura in Hong Kong, not now, when she was doing to best to get Syaoran married. Dragging up an old love affair was the last thing he needed. She'd have to get Sakura out of the city, and fast before she had time to play on Syaoran's sympathy or make any hints about what had happened.

The baby. . . had she kept the baby she was carrying? Yelan ground her teeth at the thought of Syaoran's child being put up for adoption. The baby would have been a Li, her blood. She hadn't allowed herself to think of that at the time. She only considered what was past for Syaoran, and she was Sakura wasn't. She'd cut that girl out of his life with surgical precision, and if Yelan could help it, she wasn't coming back into it now. But she did want to know about the child. If Sakura hadn't had an abortion, there might be a way to get the child. She'd think about that, and about how to explain it to Syaoran without involving Sakura in his life again. Having successfully coped with the menace once, she was confident of her ability to do it again.

The day passed quickly for Sakura. She gained confidence as she worked, and she liked the people she worked with. They all accepted her at face value, helping her learn the routine and covering for her when she was slow at getting orders to customers. She especially liked a raven-haired brunette, a Mongol, like Sakura's late great-uncle.

Mealtime, however, meant crowds. The food was of sufficient variety and price to attract local people as well as the out-of-towners and tourists. The visitors liked the simple but elegant fare provided – even the northerners and some of the Westerners (American tourists). That morning she'd waited on an American gentleman who was disappointed that they serve any grits for breakfast over here. She noticed that he was back for dinner, though, and giving her frankly interested looks. She fended them off politely. Men had no part of her life anymore.

He was persistent, she gave that. Sakura was busy warding him off once again while he ordered his evening meal when a familiar face came into view at a nearby table. Syaoran. And not only Syaoran. Li Yelan, too.

Sakura used all of her skills at diplomacy to release herself from the American gentleman and quickly turned in his order. As she did, she remembered that once she'd have switched tables with another waitress to avoid Li Yelan. Those days were over. She turned and walked to the table – one of hers – with easy pleasantness, belied only by the cold cruelty of her eyes as they met Li Yelan's for the first time in six years.

"Good evening. Would you like something to drink before you order?" she asked politely.

Yelan's dark eyes flickered. "I don't drink," she said flatly. "As you might remember, Sakura."

Sakura looked straight at her, ignoring Syaoran completely. "It might surprise you what I remember, Mrs. Li," she said quietly. "And my name is Miss Kinomoto."

The older woman laughed, too high pitched and much too mocking for pleasant amusement. "My, aren't you arrogant for a waitress?" She toyed with nervously with the utensils in the place setting. "I like to see a menu."

Sakura produced two. "I'll have a glass of white wine," Syaoran told Sakura, shifting back to gauge her reactions. His mother's hostility disturbed him. Surely he was the one with grudges.

"Coming right up," Sakura said.

As she stood at the bar waiting for the drink, she took the opportunity to study her two antagonists. Syaoran was wearing a dark suit with a conservative tie. His matching Stetson was parked on a chair at the table and his think brown hair was his messy style as usual. He didn't look as if anything would ruffle him, his lean face completely without expression, and his deep-set amber eyes staring straight ahead. But his mother was fidgeting beside him. Sakura could see her eyes dart nervously from left to right.

That body language was revealing. Sakura found it as explicit as a confession. She smiled, slowly and with cold malice, and at that moment Yelan looked at her.

Her well made up face went pasty. There was something in the expression on that girl's face, Yelan thought, something in that cold stare that made her backbone turn to jelly. This wasn't the same girl she'd sent packing. No. There was something very different about Sakura now, and it made her nauseated.

Sakura took Syaoran's drink back to the table and placed it before him. She then produced her pad and pen with perfect steady fingers, mentally thanking Takao for the poise and self-confidence he'd engendered in her.

"These aren't necessary," Syaoran said curtly, pushing the menu away. "I have a steak and salad."

"So will I," Yelan said stiffly. "Rare, please. I don't like well-done meat."

"Same here," Syaoran replied.

"Two rare steaks," Sakura murmured, letting her eyes sideways to meet Syaoran's.

"Rare, not raw," he said, uncannily reading the thought in her mind, "I don't want it to get up and moo at me."

Sakura had to fight down a smile. "Yes, sir. It won't be long."

She left them to give in the order, then served it minutes later with cool courtesy.

"She's very efficient, isn't she?" Yelan said icily as they ate. "I can remember one time when she spilled coffee all down my dress, when you took me to that horrid little café for lunch."

"You made her nervous," Syaoran said tersely. He disliked the memory. His mother had gone out of her way to make Sakura uncomfortable, sniping at her constantly.

"Apparently I don't anymore," Yelan said with faint apprehension. She cut a piece of steak very delicately and raised it to her thin lips, chewing it deliberately before she swallowed. "Maybe she's married. Did you ask?"

Syaoran glared at her. "I didn't have to. She obviously isn't."

Yelan smiled. "If you say so. Odd, though, isn't it? A pretty girl of her age, still single."

"Maybe I'm a hard act to follow," Syaoran said cuttingly, and smiled in that unpleasant way that made Yelan shift on her chair.

"Don't be crude, dear. Pass me the salt, please."

Syaoran obliged her. He finished his meal, but he hardly tasted it. Watching Sakura move around the restaurant disturbed him. She was as graceful as ever. There was a new carriage about her, a new confidence combined with a total lack of inhibition. She was nothing like the shy, loving, uncertain girl he'd taken to bed so many years ago.

But she still made him burn. His reaction to her was as potent as ever, and he was fighting it with everything in him. Regardless of his mother's inexplicably hostility toward Sakura, he knew that he couldn't let the younger woman conquer his senses again. He'd been free from her, and he wanted to stay that way. Being taken over wasn't in the cards.

Never again was he going to give in to that sweet madness.

Sakura brought the check and thanked them with a friendly smile, even adding that she hoped they had a nice evening. It was the way she said it, looking straight into Li Yelan's eyes that made it a threat instead of a farewell.

Yelan was silent all the way home. No, this wouldn't do, it really wouldn't. Presumably Sakura wasn't a woman of means, even if she did now own her great-aunt's house. A little money, a few words of warning, might be enough to remove the threat once and for all. She'd work it out.

Syaoran drove down the streets, unaware of his mother's plotting. He was trying not to think about how that neat uniform covered Sakura's assets as he fought down memories once more.


End file.
